


a cut cannot heal, unless you leave it alone.

by orphan_account



Series: a heart that beats is a heart that bleeds. [1]
Category: Bandom, My Chemical Romance
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Healing Powers, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Self Confidence Issues
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-10
Updated: 2016-06-03
Packaged: 2018-06-01 08:48:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6511264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Well...I’m in college right now. Second year, actually. Still trying to get in the swing of things, can you believe that?” He lets out a short laugh, then clears his throat. “Um...I’m here to study law. My parents, they. They think I’d be a good lawyer. Didn’t have much of a say in that. I wanted to study music, but you know how parents can be when it’s all about their kid’s future or...whatever. Um. Gerard? Are you okay?” </p><p> </p><p>While Frank had been talking, Gerard didn’t take his eyes off of him. To be expected, of course, he was telling him something, but he’d focused on one particular part of Frank’s body: his wrist.</p><p>- </p><p>or, the au where gerard is an artist with healing powers, and frank is a struggling college student who doesn't want to be healed. </p><p>DISCONTINUED :(</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> \- title inspiration: bones exposed by of mice and men. -

Frank isn’t sure exactly what time it is, or what day it is, or what he’s going to drag out of his closet this morning, but all he does know is that he’s late. Late enough that he’ll probably miss class again, late enough that his professor won’t let him in, late enough that he’ll just have to wander around near campus until his next class starts.

  
  


Frank hates being late to his classes more than anything else, and trust him, there is an extensive list of things he hates, but being late really takes the cake.

  
  


He doesn’t bother showering -- it would waste more time that he doesn’t have. He pulls on a pair of yesterday’s jeans and some worn out Converse sneakers, carelessly tying the frayed laces and looking around for a shirt. It’s going to be warm today, that’s what the forecast said, but he still finds himself grabbing for two shirts: one that’s black and long sleeved and one with the Misfits logo on the front. He tugs them on, not even checking whether or not they’re backwards, grabs his bag from under his bed, and sprints out of the dorm room as fast as his legs will allow.

  
  


* * *

  
  


“Professor Euringer, please, I’m sorry, I won’t be late again --”

  
  


“You said that last week and the week before that, Frank,” Euringer reminds him, not even sparing a glance away from what he’s writing on the board. “You know your schedule, you know when you’re supposed to be here. I can’t cater to you anymore. You picked this class at this time, and if you can’t adhere to your own schedule, that’s your problem. Now please leave my classroom.”

  
  


Frank feels like crying. Euringer has never actually kicked him out before, only threatened to. It’s not something he’s expecting, but he doesn’t argue, doesn’t try and explain himself. Just hangs his head, turns on his heel, and walks out the door. He lets it shut behind him before he turns, punching the nearest wall and trying to ignore the pain that blooms in his knuckles. He feels like shit for being late, for interrupting class. He never should have even shown up in the first place.

  
  


_No, Frank,_ he tells himself. _You’re not doing this today. You’re better than this. You’re fine._

  
  
  


He wills away the urge to start crying and calms himself down, deciding that he shouldn’t spend too much time wallowing in pity and actually do something useful with his time. Wandering around campus is never a terrible idea, after all. He heads in the direction of the cafe -- he could really use a coffee right about now.

  
  


* * *

  
  


To Frank, the small cafe on campus is like a third home to him. The second being his dorm room and the first, well. His actual home. He’s in here so often that he’s made friends with a few of the baristas, and other regular customers that never seem to have enough of their fill.

  
  


The place isn’t very busy today, and thank God for that. Frank doesn’t know if he’d be able to handle waiting in a long line after this morning’s events.

  
  


The person in front of him finally finishes ordering and leaves to find a seat, and then he’s finally at the front of the line, being greeted with a wide-toothed grin.

  
  


“Well, hey, Frankie!” A barista, Brendon, chirps. Frank just offers a short wave, and the smile on Brendon’s face diminishes some. “What’s wrong? Rough morning, I’m guessing.”

  
  


“Unfortunately,” Frank confirms, rubbing a hand down his face. “Woke up late and my professor wouldn’t let me in, so. Here I am.”

  
  


“Shit, that sucks, man,” Brendon says. His way of being apologetic, Frank guesses. He reaches over the counter, probably to ruffle Frank’s hair or something, but when Frank flinches and shies away, he draws it back immediately. “I’ll just get you your usual, yeah? You can pay and sit down and I’ll bring it to you.”

  
  


Frank nods and reaches into his pocket to get his wallet, but when his fingers meet nothing but some loose change and lint, he freezes. He quickly checks his other pockets and pulls off his backpack to sift through it and…

  
  


“Shit,” he curses, and he feels like crying all over again. “I -- fuck, I think I left my wallet in my dorm.”

  
  


“Hey -- Frank, it’s okay, no need to freak,” Brendon assures him. “I’ll just give it to you on the house, no one’ll care.” He had been in Frank’s same situation at least a hundred times, although he can’t understand why he’s taking forgetting his wallet so hard. It happens to everybody, and it isn’t like Brendon is going to slaughter him for it.

  
  


“No, I -- I can’t, that’s -- it’d feel dishonest,” Frank explains, slinging his bag across his shoulder again. “Plus, I wouldn’t have enough time to get the money. I’ll just sit in here until I have to go, I’m sorry.”

  
  


Frank hastily turns around, wanting to avoid anymore offers or questions from Brendon. He keeps his gaze on his feet, so he doesn’t notice that he’s about to walk straight into someone, until he does. He winces and looks up to apologize, but the words get caught in his throat when he sees the guy.

  
  


To say that he’s pretty would be an understatement. This guy has got to be one of the most beautiful people Frank’s ever seen. Even with his long black hair all wild and sticking out in some places and his almost vampiric pale skin and the bags that show that his eyes must be taking a long trip, he’s just...perfect.

  
  


He’s perfect and amazing and...oh, _God_ , Frank’s staring. That’s weird, he’s being weird, why’s he so weird?

  
  


“S-Sorry,” he mumbles to the guy, stumbling out of his way and nearly tripping over himself in his rush to find a seat. He picks a table farthest from the counter, obstructed by a column, so he doesn’t end up staring at the Gorgeous Vampire Guy(™) again. Everything’s just going wrong for him today. Like, as if the world hasn’t been against him enough. Now he’s probably going to be talked about by a stranger for being so god damn...Strange.

  
  


Frank curses himself in his head and buries his face in his arms, squeezing his eyes shut tight. Maybe, if he’s lucky, he’ll fall asleep. Just take a short nap, wake up and think that everything was all a bad dream and happily go about his day.

  
  


That plan ends up being futile, though. The scrape of a chair against tile has him alert again and the smell of a chai latte fills his nose. He looks up, first at the coffee, because what the hell? This is what he always orders. He _told_ Brendon he didn’t want anything on the house, did the kid just not listen? Then, he looks at whoever decided to just claim the empty seat and is about ready to give them a piece of his mind and --

  
  


Oh. Oh, God.

  
  


“Hi. I don’t mean to interrupt your sulking,” Gorgeous Vampire Guy says, smiling like something’s funny. “You just. I didn’t want you to be without your coffee. Brendon was really worried about you not being able to get through your day so I paid for it.”

  
  


“I’m not...I wasn’t sulking,” Frank says, as that’s the first thing that comes to mind in that moment. He really should be saying thank you, for fuck’s sake. “I was trying to sleep. I don’t sulk in public.”

  
  


Vampire Guy laughs a little, settling into his chair and taking a drink from his own cup. Frank glances up at Brendon’s messy writing on the side of the cup, squinting at the name. ‘Gee.’

  
  


“The hell kind of a name is ‘Gee’?” He asks, and _God_ , he wants to punch himself. He can be such a dick sometimes.

  
  


“It’s just a nickname,” the guy says after he sets his cup down. “My name’s Gerard.”

  
  


“Oh.” Frank frowns, a little mad at himself for not having realized that. “I’m Frank.” He reaches out for his coffee, ignoring the slight pang of guilt he feels in his gut when he takes a few sips. When he puts the drink back down he adds, “Thanks for this. The coffee.”

  
  


“It isn’t any problem,” Gerard says cheerily, in a way that oddly reminds him of Brendon. “Just trying to be a kind soul and stuff.”

  
  


They sit in a strangely comfortable silence for a while, drinking their respective coffees and looking anywhere that isn’t at each other (or, at least, Gerard isn’t looking at him. Frank just can’t help it, he’s so damn pretty, did he mention that?). Frank decides after a while that he wouldn’t mind becoming friends with Gerard. He doesn’t have very many, after all. Can’t make friends without getting to know them first, though, so he builds up the courage and initiates conversation.

  
  


“So, um. Gerard,” he starts, jolting a little when Gerard’s gaze shifts back to him. “What do you...how do you spend your life?”

  
  


“Oh! I work at a comic book store,” Gerard says, and Frank realizes quickly that he probably _really_ likes to talk. “It’s a few blocks away from here. I’m in school currently -- I mean, I guess I am. I’m doing it all online. A real school environment was never really good for me.” He pauses to finish off his coffee. “I’m an artist, too. Make a lot of art. I do comics, when I can find the time. I’ve got one I’ve been working on for a few years, thinking of getting it published, but I haven’t found the time to contact anyone about it. I paint, too, and draw traditionally sometimes, but not a lot of them are independent pieces. Mainly stuff for school.” He clasps his hands together and rests them under his chin, looking at Frank with a look that he can only describe as interest. “What about you, Frank? How do you spend your life?”

  
  


Frank shifts in his chair, holding his cup a little tighter. He isn’t sure if he even _wants_ to tell Gerard about his life after all that. It’d be a little disappointing, considering he doesn’t actually do all that much.

  
  


“Well...I’m in college right now. Second year, actually. Still trying to get in the swing of things, can you believe that?” He lets out a short laugh, then clears his throat. “Um...I’m here to study law. My parents, they. They think I’d be a good lawyer. Didn’t have much of a say in that. I wanted to study music, but you know how parents can be when it’s all about their kid’s future or...whatever. Um. Gerard? Are you okay?”

  
  


While Frank had been talking, Gerard didn’t take his eyes off of him. To be expected, of course, he was telling him something, but he’d focused on one particular part of Frank’s body: his wrist. He’s still staring, actually, and it makes Frank uncomfortable, as much as he hates to admit.

  
  


“I’m fine, I’m fine, just...can I…?” He trails off and reaches out slowly, pressing light fingertips to Frank’s wrist where his sleeve rode up. He stares hard at the scars, as if he’s trying to figure something out or...like he’s waiting for something to happen.

  
  


Nevertheless, Frank is _really_ uncomfortable with this. He doesn’t even like people glancing at his scars, let alone touching them, and it’s certainly unacceptable when he’s just fucking met the person. He can’t help but feel a little panicked as he pulls his wrist away, tugging down his shirt sleeve and gripping it in his palm. He laughs, forced and nervous, as he tries to carry on the earlier conversation.

  
  


* * *

  
  


When Frank leaves the cafe, it’s fast, because he can’t be late to another class. He’d planned on giving Gerard his number, so maybe they could talk more, but there wasn’t time. Plus, after that weird thing he’d done with Frank’s wrist...he wasn’t sure he wanted to. He really doesn’t know what Gerard’s deal was, but most people with even an ounce of common sense would know that it isn’t really okay to just go around touching people’s scars like that.

  
  


He gets over it, in the end. He won’t let this get to him too much, because he doesn’t know Gerard. He doesn’t know what goes on in his head.

  
  


He makes it to his next class with a few minutes to spare, takes his seat, and lets out a slow breath.

  
  
  
It’s going to be a long day.


	2. Chapter 2

Gerard just really wants to know what went wrong.

  
  
  


Okay, well, he  _ knows _ what went wrong. He’ll admit, it probably wasn’t the  _ best _ idea to just reach out and touch Frank’s scars like he did, but really, he just wanted to help. He wanted to fix them, but...he couldn’t. Nothing happened, and that’s never happened to him before. 

  
  
  


Maybe he just wasn’t concentrating hard enough? It was kind of in the moment. Or maybe the scars just didn’t need healing, maybe they’d been there so long they were healing on their own. His magic could never really counter the functions of the human body but they did look a little fresh…

  
  
  


He doesn’t have time to dwell on this. If he ever sees Frank again, he can figure it out then, and if he never does, he can think about it in the privacy of his own apartment. Now, though, he has to get back to work, otherwise Ray will kick his ass. Probably say something like, “Damn it, Gee, this is the third time this week you’ve stood at the counter thinking! Go stock the shelves!”

  
  
  


“God damn it, Gerard, what are you thinking about this time? You have work to do, come on.” Okay, it’s not exactly what he’d been thinking, but he was close enough. 

  
  
  


“Sorry, Ray. Just a little distracted,” Gerard explains, coming around from behind the counter to pick up a few boxes off the floor. He isn’t sure what’s in them, but he’s hoping it’s new issues of that comic he’s been reading. 

  
  
  


“Yeah, no shit. Anyone in a five mile radius could tell,” Ray grumbles, pinching Gee’s ear when he walks by him. 

  
  
  


“Ow!” Gerard squeaks, turning to Ray and frowning. “Toro, that’s abusive behavior. You should be fired and we should get a new manager.”

  
  
  


Ray scoffs and rolls his eyes. “You’re a drama queen, Way. Plus, there’s no way in hell you’re finding a better manager than me, okay? I mean, who else are you gonna find that lets you and Patrick take naps when business is slow? I’m waiting.”

  
  
  


Alright, Ray may or may not have him there. He does like his naps. Nonetheless, he still rolls his eyes because he is  _ not _ a drama queen. He keeps his dramatics to a minimum at work, thank you very much. 

  
  
  


Walking over to a shelf, Gee balances one of the boxes on his knee, opens it, and starts putting comics and books where they need to go. “Hey, speaking of Patrick. Where is he? I thought he was coming in way earlier.”

  
  
  


“Not sure, actually,” Ray muses. “Last time I talked to him, he’d said something about a roommate, but that was like an hour ago, so.”

  
  
  


Then, as if on cue, a disheveled and tired looking Patrick walks in, bag slung lazily over his shoulder. He tosses it behind the counter and Ray yelps as he dodges it. Patrick shuffles back towards the break room, mumbling something about coffee and donuts and  _ fucking Trohman _ . Neither Gerard nor Ray are sure what that means, so they just shrug and let Patrick go about his business while they do the same. 

  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  


“...and  _ then _ , he actually tries to convince me to let him keep the damn thing! Seriously! After all the trouble we went through to catch it. As if he isn’t a pet enough. There is no god damn way I would actually let him keep a fucking stray cat in my apartment.” Patrick lets out a huff as he finishes his tirade, taking an angry bite out of his third donut. “I swear, one day I’m gonna kill Joe.”

  
  
  


“I’m sorry, but Joe sounds like a pretty shit roommate,” Ray says, rubbing his hand against Patrick’s shoulder. Gerard hums his agreement.

  
  
  


“He is, a lot of the time,” Patrick gripes, but then he softens a little and sighs. “But he pays rent. And he’s one of my best friends, plus his parents kicked him out so that’s why he’s there and I just -- I don’t wanna do that to him too.”

  
  
  


“Well...that’s good, then,” Gerard chimes in, receiving confused looks from Ray and Patrick. “Not -- not the whole, parents-kicking-him-out thing,” he adds quickly. “You wanting to help your friend. It’s scary being kicked out of your house. It’s like, the one place you feel safe and secure, and when something happens that you get kicked out for it’s like...like the whole universe is against you.” Gerard doesn’t look at either of them while he speaks; keeps his eyes fixated on some far off point. He looks really wise, Patrick thinks. “He probably just feels really safe and comfortable with you, Patrick. I’m sure he doesn’t mean to give you a hard time. You just....need to get used to each other as roommates.” 

  
  
  


Patrick sits on that for a while, silently in awe at how good Gerard’s advice can be when it’s necessary. Finally, he nods. 

  
  
  


“Yeah. You’re right, Gee, I’m -- I’m harsh with him sometimes. I’ll really take all of that into account from now on, thank you.” 

  
  
  


Gerard’s eyes light up a little when he smiles, and hell, Patrick can’t help himself, he’s smiling too. The dude’s smile is contagious, even with all those weird little teeth of his. 

  
  
  


“God, this is _so_ gay,” Ray groans, but he’s grinning a little himself. 

  
  
  


“Like you aren’t, Toro? Shut the hell up,” Gerard retorts, shoving Ray’s shoulder.

  
  
  


“I’m not!” Ray defends. “I’m bi, I think. At best.”

  
  
  


“And at worst?”

  
  
  


“The scum of the earth -- the straight male.” Ray says in his telling-scary-stories-around-the-campfire voice, and then they’re all laughing. Gerard can’t help but think about how good that feels, how he’s got the best job in the world, being able to work with his best friends and share moments like this. 

  
  
  


“Alright, now that all that Stump angst is out of the way,” Ray starts, laughing a little more when Patrick hits him in his chest. “Let’s get back to work. Gerard, back to stocking shelves and Patrick, you’re working the counter. I’m gonna go out back and finish unloading some more boxes and shit.”

  
  
  
Ray heads out the back door and Patrick and Gerard watch him go, before going to their respective jobs, minds clear and moods brightened. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> very short chapter i apologize!! i had different plans for this chapter, but i decided to leave them until the next one. the next chapter will also be gerard's, and i'm gonna drag frank back into this. tune in next next friday for some super cute reunion shit.
> 
> \- fill my inbox with requests and junk: kinkymavin.tumblr.com -


	3. Chapter 3

 

Gerard stays at work later than usual. He offers to -- things always got busier at night and it was way too early to close up shop. Ray had to go do some adult stuff and Patrick got a very frantic sounding call from Joe, so Gerard said he’d watch the store.

  
  


It’s not the first time he’s had to do this. Definitely won’t be the last. He likes being the only one in the shop, honestly -- it’s a big responsibility and he feels honored that Ray trusts him this much. He feels like he’s been tasked with watching someone’s baby or something (which really isn’t too far off with Ray).

  
  


He watches as the last few customers file out of the store, waves goodbye to them. He pulls out his phone to check the time -- 9:05. The store usually closes at ten, but nobody else seems to be coming in, so he figures he might do it early. Gerard bends over the counter and rests his head on his arms, watching the door. He’s starting to get tired, he really thinks he should head home soon. Not to mention it’s started to rain and he really doesn’t want to be caught up in it and _wow_ , since when is rain so soothing?

  
  


He listens to the soft pitter patter of rain against glass for a few more minutes, and then he’s asleep.

  
  


* * *

  
  


Frank really thinks that some sentient being is just out to get him today.

  
  


Out of all the nights he had to go get some stupid comic for Pete, it _had_ to be a night it would rain. The forecast didn’t even _say_ anything about rain, why is he being tortured like this? He doesn’t have an umbrella and his jacket is thin; he’s going to get a fever or pneumonia and he’s probably going to _die_ , all because Pete can’t live without one damn comic book.

  
  


He huffs and pulls his phone out, making sure he’s still going in the right direction. It’s only a twenty minute walk from campus to this comic book store, and he’s two minutes away, but it feels like he’s been walking for-fucking- _ever_. He hasn’t walked somewhere this far away in a very long time. His legs ache and he’s cold and wet and fucking _tired_ , he doesn’t know why this couldn’t have waited until tomorrow.

  
  


True to his phone’s word, Frank’s at the shop in the next two minutes, and he’s very grateful for that. He pushes the door open and is immediately hit with the smell of old paper, coffee, and wood. And _god_ , is it warm. He almost doesn’t mind walking the mile to get here.

  
  


The store is empty, apart from him and some dude sleeping at the counter. He really hopes he works here, otherwise that would not only be terrifying, but a very uncomfortable situation for them both. He quickly decides that it won’t be any of his business unless he starts getting harassed and heads to a section labeled ‘New Arrivals,’ where he starts his search for this comic. Very slowly, though. He’s trying to savor this warmth.

  
  


Halfway through looking, Frank has the realization that he has no idea what comic he’s looking for. He doesn’t know what it’s called or what the cover looks like, just very vaguely what it entails because _Pete never stops talking about it_. Pete doesn’t even read comics like that, Frank has no idea why he’s so far up this one’s asshole. He’s about to just call Pete, tell him to get off his lazy ass and get this comic himself or at least send him a picture of what it looks like, when a gravelly voice nearly makes him jump out of his skin.

  
  


“Welcome to Torotilla’s Books and Comics,” someone says, and Frank whips around to see it’s the person who was asleep at the counter a little bit ago. He’s rubbing at his eyes and blinking while they adjust to the light and he looks _really_ familiar to Frank for some reason.

  
  


“Sorry if I scared you,” the guy says, and Frank realizes he must look as shaken up as he feels. “Didn’t expect anyone else to come in. It’s pretty late and...hey, you’re Frank, right?”

  
  


“...Yes?” Frank replies. He’s trying to figure out where he knows this guy from. He’s definitely heard that voice and seen that face before, but where…? “ _Oh!_ You’re the gorgeous vampire guy!”

  
  


Gerard snorts. “‘Gorgeous vampire guy?’ Can’t say I’ve gotten that one before but, uh...thank you?”

  
  


“I. Yeah, sorry, I did mean to say Gerard, just.” Frank knows he looks redder than a fucking cherry right now. Only his second time meeting Gerard and he’s already embarrassed himself. “Anyway! Could you help me find something? I mean, assuming you work here. I mean, I _know_ you work here, you told me that earlier. I’m, um. I’ll stop talking.”

  
  


“You’re cute,” Gerard says, moving from behind the counter and stretching as he walks over to Frank. He either doesn’t notice or ignores the way Frank starts spluttering. “What can I help you find?”

  
  


“I, it’s, um.” Frank looks quickly back to the shelf, trying to hide his face. God, he’s so red. “It’s kind of like. These twins? One’s kind of...daredevil-y and the other one is shy and draws a lot. And they’re always picturing stuff that no one else sees but them. And there’s some deal with an art school I think? And some weird British dude, I don’t know. I don’t read this comic, I’m buying it for a friend.”

  
  


“I think I know what you’re looking for,” Gerard muses, turning away from Frank and reaching up to one of the top shelves, where he produces a thin book encased in plastic. He hands it to Frank, grins a little wider when he takes it. “The new Jandy Nelson comic. It’s a really good story, you should give it a read sometime.”

  
  


And never before has Frank ever considered reading this, but when the suggestion comes out of Gerard’s mouth, he feels like he’d be letting him down if he didn’t. So he nods. “I think I might. I can always borrow my friend’s copies.”

  
  


“Sounds like a plan, Dan,” Gerard says, shooting finger guns at Frank, and Frank flat out _giggles_.

  
  


“But my name’s Frank,” he says, and the joke is so silly that he’s laughing again, and now Gerard is too, and Gerard decides then and there that Frank is the cutest damn thing he’s ever seen in his _life_.

  
  


“Here, let me ring this up for you,” he says, taking the comic from Frank again. He goes to the counter and Frank follows, watches intently as Gerard scans the comic and brings up the price. Frank pulls out his wallet (so, _so_ grateful he didn’t forget it this time) and pays for it, then takes it back from Gerard in the bag he puts it in. He tries to ignore the little jolt in his stomach he gets when his hand brushes Gerard’s because he is not a teenage girl in a cliché teen movie.

  
  


“Thanks for helping me out. My friend’s been whining about this damn thing all day.” Frank shakes the bag a little. “Well. I better get going, it’s getting really late and I’ve got class tomorrow.”

  
  


Gerard purses his lips and looks at Frank, like he’s debating something, and it’s about a minute later that he speaks up.

  
  


“How about -- Could I give you a ride back to campus? I know that _totally_ sounds weird, but it’s late and it’s a long walk that you shouldn’t have to take back by yourself. Plus it’s raining and cold and you are wearing a _really_ thin jacket and I --”

  
  


He stops rambling when he hears Frank snort, and then giggle, and then full out laugh. He frowns, because what the hell did he miss?

  
  


“Sorry, sorry,” Frank manages, but then he’s laughing again. “I’m just -- the way you said ‘jacket.’”

  
  


Gerard just throws Frank a look. “What’s wrong with the way I say jacket?”

  
  


Frank starts laughing so hard his face turns red. “You don’t -- You don’t say ‘jacket.’ You say it like ‘jyackut.’”

  
  


It’s been a long time since Gerard has genuinely blushed at anything, but for some reason, Frank making fun of the way he says ‘jacket’ has an embarrassed flush creeping all the way down his neck. “I -- I’m from Jersey! Let me live!”

  
  


“Oh, I’m letting you live, Mr. Jyackut,” Frank teases, practically squealing with laughter when he sees how red Gerard is.

  
  


Gerard huffs, folding his arms across his chest and turning away from Frank slightly. “I offer to give you a ride and this is the thanks I get. I knew buying you that coffee would be a bad idea.” Frank’s laughter has died down into giggles now, and it’s so contagious that Gerard can’t help but grin. He doesn’t know why, but he really can’t find himself staying mad at Frank for very long.

  
  


Once Frank’s finally done laughing, he says, “No, but, um. I’m not going to decline a ride. I don’t really feel like walking all the way back to the school anyway.”

  
  


Gerard looks back at Frank and quirks a brow. “Oh, so you’re accepting my kind gesture because you’re lazy?”

  
  


“Oh, my god, please fuck off,” Frank groans, rolling his eyes.

  
  


Gerard chuckles and pulls his keys from his pocket. “Come on, I always park my car out back. Rain’s picked up, so I hope you’re not too lazy to run.”

  
  


* * *

  
  


“How old are you, Frank?”

  
  


Frank looks over at Gerard from where he’s been staring out the window. “That’s something creepy old men ask underaged girls,” he says. “And no offense, but you have little teeth and they make you look creepy. And you smell like old people.”

  
  


“Ouch, Frank, I’m just trying to find out some things about you,” Gerard says, feigning hurt.

  
  


“And _I’m_ just trying to avoid being on the ID Channel,” Frank jokes, but adds, “Nineteen. My birthday was a little while ago.”

  
  


“Oh, shit, really? I’m nineteen too,” Gerard chirps. “I’ll be twenty in a few months, though. A true adult.”

  
  


“An old man is what you’ll be,” Frank mutters, laughing a little when Gerard reaches over and shoves his shoulder.

  
  


“You apparently find this old man attractive, calling me ‘gorgeous vampire guy.’”

  
  


Frank splutters and blushes. “Well, I just -- it’s -- okay, listen --”

  
  


Gerard chuckles. “I’m just joking around, Frank. You get flustered real easy, huh?”

  
  


“None of your business,” Frank grumbles.

  
  


For the last five minutes of the drive back to campus, the two sit in a comfortable silence with the faint background noise of the radio. It’s so nice, Frank wishes he could just drive around with Gerard forever. He feels so free and without problems. Feels like he’s escaping.

  
  


But all good things come to an end at some point, and soon Frank’s back at the college, trying not to seem too disappointed as he pulls on his hood and hugs Pete’s comic tight to his chest. He looks at Gerard and flashes a smile.

  
  


“Thank you,” he says. “For driving me back and all.”

  
  


“It’s no problem,” Gerard says, smiling back. “Oh! Wait, before you go, I meant to ask you earlier if I could maybe get your number?”

  
  


Frank blinks. “Huh?”

  
  


“You don’t have to give it to me if you don’t want,” Gerard says quickly, eyes wide. “I mean, I was just thinking we could be, y’know. Friends and all.”

  
  


Frank definitely does not have a brief mental breakdown when Gerard says that. Part of him wants to start cheering, because he’s been trying to work up the courage to be Gerard’s friend all day, but at the same time he kind of wants to cry because oh god, someone wants to be his friend? Willingly? He’s so honored.

  
  


“Sure!” Frank says eventually, chuckling nervously when he realizes he came off too eager. “I mean. Yes. Totally. 100%. Should I write it down or…?”

  
  


“I’ll just put my number in your phone,” Gerard says, and Frank nods, pulling his phone from his pocket and handing it to Gerard after unlocking it. He watches Gerard punch in his number quickly before he hands the phone back, and Frank feels like he’s won a gold medal in the fucking Olympics.

  
  


“Alright, well. I’ll text you!” Frank opens up the door and smiles at Gerard once more before getting out, trying not to run too fast lest he slip and make a fool of himself again. He does try to get back inside as quickly as possible, though, he has so much to tell Pete.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> alright it's late but!! i finally updated. we can all celebrate this super gay reunion. 
> 
> i figured it would be worth mentioning that the comic i described isn't actually a comic, but a novel by jandy nelson called 'i'll give you the sun.' it's a really beautiful book with a lot of amazing imagery and i definitely recommend it, if you're someone who likes reading books.
> 
> also i want to apologize for the torotilla pun but at the same time, no i don't. it's totally something ray would do lbr.


	4. Chapter 4

“I  _ knew  _ it!” Pete screeches, slamming his comic down on the courtyard table. “I knew they liked each other. It was  _ obvious _ the second Brian moved in, the foreshadowing was just there, I just --”

  
  
  


Frank easily tunes out Pete’s rant, like he always does whenever he talks about his comic. It’s really cute how Pete thinks Frank actually cares about what he has to say. He’s busy, anyway, because he’s staring at his phone and debating what his first text to Gerard will be. Serious business. He thinks maybe he should just say a simple “hi !! :),” but he doesn’t use emoticons in his text messages seriously. Plus, any conversations that start with “hi” are doomed to flop. He could also start with one of their little inside jokes from the night before, but there’s also a chance that Gerard wouldn’t remember and Frank would be embarassed and he’d have to awkwardly explain himself. God, he has got to be the most socially awkward person  _ ever.  _ This is the exact reason why he’s stuck with Pete as a friend. 

  
  
  


“-- _god,_ that’s just so cool, don’t you think?” Pete says, and this brings Frank out of his thoughts, but he still continues to look at his phone. At least, until Pete smacks him upside the head. Frank jolts and frowns and looks at Pete, who’s staring at him and pouting. 

  
  
  


“ _ Frank, _ ” Pete whines, and Frank rolls his eyes. “Have you even been listening to me?”

  
  
  


“I don’t have ears,” Frank replies simply, grinning when Pete huffs. 

  
  
  


“You’ve been staring at your phone for like, fifteen minutes, dude.” Pete leans in and looks over his shoulder. “What, are you watching a porno or something?”

  
  
  


“No!” Frank exclaims, flushing a little. “You nosy fuck, mind your own business!”

  
  
  


“Alright, Mr. Defensive, calm the fuck down,” Pete says, holding up his hands in surrender. 

  
  
  


“I  _ am  _ calm,” Frank argues, before hunching back over his phone. His thumbs flit nervously in the air above the keyboard and he bites his lip. This should be so simple, why isn’t this simple? He’s about to just go for it, say the first thing that comes to mind and suffer the consequences, when suddenly Pete is back over his shoulder. “What?” he hisses, looking over at a mess of red streaked bangs. 

  
  
  


“Is that that guy who you met at the cafe?” Pete asks, sounding excited. Frank wants to hit him. “Are you texting him?”

  
  
  


“Trying to,” Frank mutters, looking back to his phone. There’s a few letters in the text box from where his thumbs must have accidentally pressed keys, and he quickly deletes them, for fear of accidentally sending them. 

  
  
  


“Can I help?” is all Frank hears before his phone is in Pete’s hand. He protests and tries to grab for his phone back, but then Pete stands up, and Frank knows if he stands up after him, Pete will run. His legs are still sore from last night. 

  
  
  


“‘Hi, this is Pete, I’m texting you to start a conversation between you and Frank because he’s too scared to do it himself,’” Pete reads out as he types. “Smiley face. No wait, winky face. With a nose. Send!” He presses the button and gives Frank his phone back.

  
  
  


“Oh my God,” Frank groans, shoving his phone in his pocket and pushing his face into his hands. “He’s never gonna wanna talk to me again. You’ve fucked me, Pete.”

  
  
  


“If that’s code for, “Thank you oh so graciously, Pete, for helping me talk to the guy whose pants I want to get into,” then you’re welcome.”

  
  
  


Frank shoves Pete’s legs and grins as he stumbles. “I wouldn’t thank you even if you saved me from getting my balls chopped off.” 

  
  
  


“And to think I call you my best friend,” Pete scoffs as he sits back down. 

  
  
  
  
  


It’s fifteen minutes later, when Frank’s back in class, that his phone goes off, a long enough time that he forgot he even texted Gerard. Or rather, that Pete did. He hurries to unlock his phone and read the text, his heart beating just a little faster. 

  
  
  


_ ‘Tell Frank he shouldn’t be scared to text me in the future; I’m an awkward texter too :)’  _

  
  
  


Frank feels an odd sense of relief at that. Like, thank God he isn’t the only person who has a hard time being the first one to send a message. 

  
  
  


_ ‘hey it’s frank now !! i just want to say that i totally didn’t ask him to do that he just took my phone i’m socially awkward i’m sorry’  _

  
  
  


Send. 

  
  
  


Now that Frank is actually doing this himself, he realizes it isn’t as horrible as he thought. He feels totally confident and ready to send the next text. He recieves Gerard’s response no less than five minutes later.

  
  
  


_ ‘Lol aren’t we all?? Don’t worry about it.’ _

  
  
  


_ ‘oh god did u just say lol???? what kind of disgusting being are you’ _

  
  
  


_ ‘When will you let me live?’ _

  
  
  


Frank snorts, so caught up in typing his next reply that he isn’t even fazed by people looking at him.

  
  
  


_ ‘when u stop saying lol’ _

  
  
  


_ ‘Lol lol lol lol lol’ _

  
  
  


_ ‘welp. have fun not living gerard’  _

  
  
  


_ ‘Okay that actually did make me laugh out loud.’  _

  
  
  


Frank feels a warm fuzzy feeling spread throughout his chest, and it makes him smile. He feels so accomplished, he made a new friend, got his number, and he succeeded in making him laugh. This is the furthest in a blossoming friendship he’s ever gotten. 

  
  
  


_ ‘okay tbh as much as i don’t want to be here i have a test coming up so i have to pay attention but give me like half an hour more and we can text like civil people’ _

  
  
  


_ ‘Lmao okay. Study hard.’ _

  
  
  


Frank puts his phone in his bag and turns his attention back to his professor, writing down a few things he missed.

  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  


_ ‘Hey, Frank. What are you doing later today?’ _

  
  
  


It’s the most recent text from Gerard and if Frank’s being honest, he doesn’t really know how he should respond. He isn’t doing anything at all, when does he ever, but should Gerard know that? He doesn’t know. He doesn’t know.

  
  
  


After a few minutes of a fiery internal debate, Frank replies with,

  
  
  


_ ‘nothing really. why?’  _

  
  
  


Frank watches the dots on his screen for a bit before a new message takes its place. 

  
  
  


_ ‘Do you want to go out to dinner with me later?’ _

  
  
  


Dead. Gone. Deceased. Flatlining. No longer living. All of these are words to describe how Frank is feeling right now. Gerard just asked him out to dinner. He doesn’t know how to react to this. People don’t ask him out to dinner. Oh, God. This stresses him out.

  
  
  


_ ‘You can totally say no btw, i’m not forcing you.’ _

  
  
  


Frank realizes then that he’s been thinking about this way too hard and way too long and he decides to type out an actual response. 

  
  
  


_ ‘no !! i totally want to go omg yes let’s go. pick a place with good vegan options tho bc. i don’t eat meat yknow.’ _

  
  
  


_ ‘Ofc. I’ll come pick you up at 7:30?’ _

  
  
  


_ ‘sounds like a plan, dan ;-)’ _

  
  
  
Gerard texts back a simple  _ ‘Haha’  _ before he stops replying, and Frank assumes he’s getting ready. He sits on his bed for a while, just trying to take this all in. He’s going out to dinner with Gerard. He’s really not okay. He huffs as he pushes himself off the mattress and heads to his dresser, just hoping he has some clean enough shirts to wear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is kind of short and lowkey a filler but !! i've been sick and i needed to rest and i only just finished this chapter today. i was a little pressed for time tbh. i wanted to make it longer, but i figured i'd save what i wanted to do for the next chapter. i assure you all it'll be a lot longer and better 2 weeks from now. 
> 
> in other news this story has over 300 hits now and i just wanted to say. wowza!! that's honestly so cool that this story has been willingly read over 300 times thanks so much for bearing with my subpar writing skills. <3


	5. Chapter 5

Gerard pulls up to the college at exactly 7:30. He doesn’t expect Frank to be outside yet, which means he can allow himself some good old fashioned relaxation time in his car. Y’know, turning on the radio humming along to music. It’s so nice, he almost forgets about where exactly he is and drifts off into another galaxy, but a knock on the passenger’s side window prevents that. Until next time, daydream David Bowie.

  
  
  


He waves at Frank and quickly unlocks the door, smiling at him when he gets settled into his seat. He looks good, so much so that Gerard feels a little underdressed. He’d only been planning to take them to a small family restaurant a couple blocks away, but he definitely feels like he could have done a little more than just a worn out t-shirt and some jeans that are a little too big.

  
  
  


“Wow, Frankie, you clean up nice,” Gerard compliments, tugging lightly on the collar of Frank’s button up.

  
  
  


Frank snorts and throws Gee a look. “‘Frankie?’”

  
  
  


“What? We’ve nearly been friends for a full day, I figured a nickname was appropriate friendship etiquette,” Gerard explains.

  
  
  


“Alright, Data,” Frank teases, grinning. “I don’t mind a nickname. People don’t give me nicknames, so that’s pretty rad.”

  
  
  


Gerard laughs a little as he starts his car back up, heads in the direction of the restaurant. “‘Rad.”

  
  
  


“What’s wrong with ‘rad?’”

  
  
  


“Oh, nothing. In fact, I think it’s totally super tubular, bro.” Gerard puts on the typical surfer dude voice at the end, just so he can make fun of Frank. “Super awesome, homeskillet.”

  
  
  


Frank huffs. “Why are you making fun of me because I said ‘rad?’”

  
  
  


“Oh, I would  _ never, _ ” Gerard assures, but Frank really can’t believe him anymore because he’s laughing. “I’m just trying to have some fun with my new bro! I mean, what could be more rad, am I right?”

  
  
  


Gerard still doesn’t stop laughing, even after Frank reaches over and pinches his nose.

  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  


“I told you to pick a place with  _ good  _ vegan options, Gerard,” Frank says, staring intently at the menu in his hand. “Like, these people don’t understand the concept of making good food for all types of people. It’s like, “Here, have these vegetables. We boiled them and cut them and put some Italian herbs on them. Enjoy.””

  
  
  


Gerard snorts. “Is that an actual thing on the menu?”

  
  
  


Frank goes quiet for a few seconds, then breaks out into giggles. “It is, actually. But I think I’ll just order a big thing of fries instead.”

  
  
  


“ _ Super  _ classy, Frankie.”

  
  
  


“Okay, now you need to let  _ me  _ live. I like fries.” Frank closes his menu and sets it aside, nudging Gerard’s knee under the table to get his attention. “So, like, why’d you invite me to dinner with you?”

  
  
  


Gerard smiles. “Easy. ‘Cause I’m tired of people thinking I’m a lonely fuck who has no friends. Plus, you’re a college student. I imagine you haven’t had a proper meal in a while.”

  
  
  


“Okay, for your information, that is so not true,” Frank scoffs. “Just last night I ate a whole box of Pastaroni.” 

  
  
  


“Right, so. Point proven,” Gerard teases. Frank opens his mouth to probably make some snappy retort, but stops short when he notices the waitress having arrived at their table. There will always be time to call Gerard a smart ass later. 

  
  
  


“Hi, I’ll be your waitress for tonight,” the woman says, and points to her nametag which says ‘Lucy.’ It oddly suits her, even though she looks more like a Jessica. “Can I start you off with something to drink?”

  
  
  


“Uh, yeah, I’ll just have, like, a water,” Frank says.

  
  
  


“‘Like, a water,’” Gerard mocks him, and that earns him a swift kick to the knee under the table. Worth it, though. It was funny and it made Lucy laugh, too. “I’ll have a Coca Cola, by the way.”

  
  
  


“Alright, I’ll be back with those and then I can take your orders,” Lucy says, and then she’s gone. 

  
  
  


Frank watches her leave before he turns to Gerard, a smirk playing on his lips. “You are so fucking white,” he says, sounding utterly disappointed. “Who orders ‘Coca Cola?’ Just call it a Coke, dude.”

  
  
  


“Says the guy who ordered, ‘like, a water,’” Gerard says, rolling his eyes. 

  
  
  


Frank frowns. “I will literally end your life, Gerard.”

  
  
  


“‘Literally.’”

  
  
  


For the second time in less than ten minutes, Gerard doesn’t regret getting kicked in the knee.

  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  


About a half an hour later, Frank gets his fries and Gerard gets the chicken tenders he ordered. Frank also  _ definitely  _ doesn’t steal some of Gerard’s fries from his plate when he isn’t looking. He just can’t help it, he really likes fries. 

  
  
  


They’re about ready to leave and find Lucy so they can get some boxes, because it’s getting late and they both have their classes tomorrow. The waitress seemingly appears out of nowhere, though, smiling wide at Frank and Gerard.

  
  
  


“How was your food? Everything good?” She asks, and they both nod, which somehow makes her smile more. “Do you need anything else? Boxes, dessert?”

  
  
  


“Just the boxes, please,” Gerard says, leaning back in his chair and patting his stomach. “We’re both a little too full for anything else.” 

  
  
  


Frank just hums in agreement, leaning down to take a sip from his drink. 

  
  
  


“Aww, that’s kind of a shame,” Lucy says, her brow furrowing a little. “You know, the apple pie here is amazing. Maybe you can try it next time you come around! We’re celebrating twenty years of this place all month, and we’ll be giving couples a discount on desserts.” She says that last part a little suggestively, even throws a wink at Gerard.

  
  
  


Gerard’s about to ask why she would even mention that, but he doesn’t get a chance to because he’s distracted by Frank choking. He’s spitting up water all over the table, and Gerard nearly jumps out of his chair to make sure he’s okay, but then he sees that Frank’s laughing. Really hard, actually. 

  
  
  


“Oh, my god, I am so sorry,” Frank wheezes, wiping off his mouth with the back of his hand. “I’m just -- we’re not a  _ couple.  _ There is absolutely no way I could date him. He’s too much of a meme.”

  
  
  


“Frankie, I find that really offensive. Don’t make fun of my culture,” Gerard says, but he ends up laughing halfway through the joke because Frank started up again. 

  
  
  


When they calm down, Lucy apologizes for assuming things and hurriedly goes to get them napkins and boxes. They pack up their remaining food, pay for their meal, and head back to Gerard’s car, where they just end up laughing again about how Lucy mistook them for a couple. They probably won’t stop laughing about that for weeks to come. 

  
  
  


Gerard thinks having that knowledge is a pretty successful way to end the night. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi!!! 
> 
> so i just want to say that i am sosososo sorry for how late i've been updating recently and how messy and short the last two chapters have been. i've become really pressed for time and unable to write like i want to because of exams and stuff, but i swear on my life the next couple of chapters will be so much more lengthy and better than these have been. 
> 
> in other news, i'm going to start updating two chapters at a time now because i'll have more time to write! i only have about a week of school left! i planned to do that tonight, but i never did get in chapter 6. but because i dont like to disappoint, you'll all be getting chapter 6 tomorrow! this isn't to say the update schedule will change, it's still every other friday, but i don't want to not keep my promise.
> 
> again, i'm sorry that i updated late again and basically just gave you guys another filler. i have exciting (and super sad) things coming up soon, please bear with me. <3

**Author's Note:**

> so, this story started as an au idea, based off of a personal experience of mine. obviously i've never met someone with healing powers who changed my life but i saw a friend of mine's scars and just thought, "god, if i had the power to heal them with just a touch, i would." i typed my idea up into my phone, decided frerard would be the ship i wrote about, and the rest is history. 
> 
> i'm going to try my best to update every other friday. i haven't written a chaptered thing with a schedule in years, but. i'll try. if i don't keep up with my schedule, updates will happen when they happen. 
> 
>  
> 
> \- fill my inbox with requests nd junk: kinkymavin.tumblr.com -


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